Songtext von Increased Chances (the Apocalypse)

The population has greatly decreased So the odds are greatly increased That one day I'll get a chance To kiss your lips Each night I thank the Lord For the apocalypse People are mostly disfigured and dead But I won't let it go to my head My mama's face has run down to the dirt But I'm still chasing chitterlings, whiskey, and skirt I meant to set your world on fire Didn't mean to set the world on fire I let the cities burn And we're all alone, I've come to grips Each night I thank the Lord For the apocalypse The population has greatly decreased So the odds are greatly increased That one day I'll get a chance To kiss your lips Each night I thank the Lord For the apocalypse